


J: Jotunheim

by XX_CALIBRE



Series: Pykja Vænt Um [10]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Unknown female character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: He wants touch. He wants bites. He wants marks—he wants to be known as Vili Hemmingson’s.
Relationships: Eivor/Vili
Series: Pykja Vænt Um [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024777
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	J: Jotunheim

It is like fire, Vili’s fingertips as Eivor felt them being dragged along his side. It is like fire, Vili’s blunt nails as Eivor felt them being dragged into his skin.

It is fire, Vili’s breath as he kisses Eivor’s nape. It is fire, Eivor’s walls sucking Vili in like the hungry bacraut he was.

Vili whispers in Eivor’s ear. Vili sings a haunting tune. It is the tune of jealousy. “I saw the way you touched her.” It is the tune of warning. “I saw the way you let her touch you.” It is the tune of a man who Eivor belonged to.

Eivor wants to look at Vili. Eivor wants to stare into his eyes and watch the ice in them frost over, clouding them. And yet Vili does not give him the pleasure. No. Vili hides from Eivor’s sight. With purpose.

“I watched you look into her eyes, staring as if you have met the perfect one. Am I not that person for you?”

It is fire, Vili’s cock as it went from tip to hilt— _ plunging  _ deeply into Eivor. It drives the breath of Eivor’s lungs. It drives a gasp of broken air, it drives a stuttering mewl. Vili’s fingers waltzes from his bruised hips to his neck, squeezing… scratching. Making his skin bleed crimson. “Did you lie? Did you lie when you said you thought about me? Thought about what might have been?”

A pause.

“Did. You.  _ Lie _ ?”

Vili thrusts into Eivor again and again, burying Eivor further into the soft material of his— _ their _ —bed. Vili looms over Eivor, pinning Eivor underneath him as he slaps through the tight wet space of Eivor’s entrance and nearly breaks his prostate.

Eivor’s jaw comes loose, nothing but the sweet staccato of ‘ah! Ah! Hemmingson!’ pouring through the cracks of his teeth. The tears prod at the corner of his eyes, the saliva coats the corners of his lips. He wants to answer but Vili has him reduced to nothing but a begging mess—a pleasing mess, wanting more than just cock.

He wants touch. He wants bites. He wants marks— _ he wants to be known as Vili Hemmingson’s. _

“I did not— _ ngh _ —lie! You were on my mind day and— _ agh, Vili…! _ —night.” Eivor does not dare wrap his limbs around Vili and yet the shake in them knows he needs to touch. “Let me touch you or so help me, I will—”

“What?” Vili slices through his sentence as he viciously stops moving. “What will you do, Eivor Wolf-kissed? Let Sýnin feast on my eyes?”

A swallow does he do. Eivor wants to look at Vili. Eivor wants to stare into his eyes and watch the ice in them frost over, clouding them.

The chill of Jotunheim settles.

Vili coos in Eivor’s ear. Vili sings a haunting tune. It is the tune of jealousy. “Remind yourself that you belong to one Drengr.” It is the tune of possession. “And that Drengr is me.”

_ Because I am the only one who truly loves you. Even when you need to carry on your legacy—that is why you looked at her like that, was it not? _

  
  
  



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